Chapter 7
The place was dark, and only a small handful of lanterns were carefully lit, providing only token illumination by which the assembled could see. Those gathered, some three score individuals, shied away from the gaping hole in the ground next to them. Nearly two hundred paces wide and twice as long, it seemed as if a maw of fangs had opened up upon the die, seeking to swallow all those foolish enough to approach. It was here the Grand Militant Order of Lust had gathered after their retreat from the iruxi, Coal, and his impossible strength.
Corvik Colvras drew in a breath, the burning pain in his ribs at last subsiding. He hissed in feigned disgust at Suppressa for having it be necessary to use her magical powers. Though beautiful to behold, with her pale purple skin and green hair, Suppressa’s gifts with magic naturally caused others amongst the order to mistrust her. Corvik himself was an exception to the mistrust. He had full faith in Suppressa to obey the strong, and there was no one she knew stronger than him. Besides, Suppressa, like all his lieutenants, was under the sway of “Lust.” Corvik felt the shortsword at his side to reassure himself it had not been lost. So long as he had it, one stab could charm almost anyone into becoming his.
Magic, however… it was a useful tool, but poorly understood. Sloth guarded their secrets jealously, and most had only a rare few tricks if they knew anything at all. Corvik trusted Sloth not at all. “So, what did we gain by fleeing, by tarnishing my name, by showing our back to them, eh? Suppressa!” he spat at her.
She knelt before him in response. “The enemy was seeking someone, my maester. I foresaw their desire and knew our original plan had been foiled. The stone failed, and you were either deceived or betrayed, though I cannot say by whom,” she replied. Corvik considered the answer for a moment, then placed his boot on the back of her head and shoved her to the ground.
“Doxen! That flanking strike was much delayed! What happened?” he spat at his other surviving lieutenant. “I ordered your strike before we engaged our prey, yet you did not arrive until he had regained the wall!”
Doxen, clad in full plate,, also knelt before his maester. “My Maester, if I have failed you, it was not by intent or design. I know nothing of an order to flank them. I undertook the assault on my own initiative, to cover your tactical withdrawal,” the armored hobgoblin explained quickly, not an ounce of fear betrayed in his face. There was only adoration. Doxen was his completely. He would not lie.
“Then my messenger was slain. I see. The lizard did come from the woods behind us. They targeted Tasagis when they appeared. As you noted, Suppressa,” he cooed, removing his boot from her head and helping her stand. “Good, bring me the prisoners taken by Tasagis. I will inspect the other goods before we descend, first however we must determine their target.”
Corvik amused himself for a moment with politely cleaning the dust and grime from Suppressa’s pretty face with a cloth. It really was a pretty face. “Suppressa, loveliest of my servants, you have done well this night. I am greatly pleased at my faith in you,” he whispered to her. She flushed with embarrassment at his words, the purple of her face deepening.
“My maester is so kind. I took upon myself the role of my maester, and his kindness rewards me more than punishes me,” she responded, averting her gaze demurely.
Corvik laughed aloud at this, and stroked her cheek. “Indeed, and I shall reward you more once we return home. First though, these are the prizes?”
A small child, two fairly pretty human women dressed in the clothing of a townsfolk, two strong looking laborers taken from the legion, six soldiers, a knight… and a cat dressed like a knight. There were others as well, and a child as well, dressed beautifully in fine clothing of high cost and fashion. “So… which of you would they be after… I wonder… who would the maid die for…”
“Die?” the well dressed girl squeaked out, then clamped her mouth shut. Fear had etched itself onto her face, but she tried valiantly to hold to a noble and regal bearing she was too young and inexperienced to achieve. Corvik couldn’t help but chuckle at the display. Such an ugly little thing, and the humans would call it cute. Such pale smooth skin was a horrid combination. And so young. He hated children. They were disgusting to him.
“Well, interesting. Yes, the maid is dead. I killed her myself,” he mocked the girl. “Slash! Right through her spine! She’s dead now, and no one is coming to save you.”
The girl held herself upright, shivering. Tears welled in her eyes, but her knees did not bend. “You’re lying,” she hissed at last, yet the voice was like the squeal of a shrew, squeaky and hilarious. “You can’t be truth… Mere would never… no, she couldn’t!” she resolutely insisted.
“Gah, what the?” one of his soldiers called suddenly, and a thump was heard. One of the knights had tried to stand, rushing forward, only to be tripped up by her restraints and the efforts of a human. Corvick was amused to realize the cat woman was at fault.
Doxen clipped the hobgoblin guarding her upside the head. “Tch, Gorbek, get it together. You, don’t! Try! To! Interrupt! The! Maester!” he proceeded to kick the downed cat, with each blow speaking a command, cursing at the impudent cat, striking a blow to her shoulder until there was a *CRUNCH* and breaking bones.
Corvik chuckled as he took that in, before returning his attention to the girl. “Well, I have my answer,” he mused, smiling broadly. He stroked Suppressa’s chin. “Suppressa, watch over the little crumpet. She will need to be alive for our highest odds of success. Secure our prizes! We’re descending into the caverns!”
A general roar went up as the assembled soldiers of Lust sprang into action. Corvik had a lizard to catch, and there was still the cost of dealing with the thing below to consider. Some of their prizes would likely be sacrificed for that cause.
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“Be it true, he’s a Jotun-ranked?” Agritus whispered to Franklin. Franklin massaged her temple, though not because of Agritus. They stood in the town square, and the last of their subordinates were running away to work. Only six remained, including Franklin and Agritus. Anna stood next to her squire, their daughter Fayna. Next to Fayna stood Anna’s little half-brother, though most thought him a girl when they first saw him. Baynan dressed in imitation of her, claiming it was to help himself learn from her better. She knew it more, but she didn’t have time to think om it.
“Yes Agritus… or rather, I’m really not sure. At least Jotun, given the equipment, but you didn’t see that fire-breath… twas not the fire-breath of a mere Jotun. Her Royal Highness the Court Magician can’t use magic so powerful,” she insisted to her newly acquired, and prayerfully temporary, adjutant. “Now step back, give me space,” she ordered, kneeling to eye level for the two she had now to face.
“Mama…” Fayna whispered, small white eyes filling with worried tears. She was trying to hold them back, but like flood waters at a dam they spilled out anyways. “Is Aunt Marta going to be safe then? Will you be safe?” she asked.
“Of course teacher will be safe!” Baynan insisted, fists balled. “She can’t lose with a Jotun warrior at her side, not as she needs the help,” he declared, faking a proud smile. He saw himself as the elder uncle, though Fayna was actually older by a month. The pair of fifteen year olds quickly held hands and Franklin pulled them in and hugged them both tenderly. Not precisely the way a sponsor should treat a squire.
“Sillies, I’ll be just fine. Now stay with Anna, and worry about your own safety. That is an order.” She kissed each on the forehead and they stood straight, offering her salutes. Baynan’s horns almost got in her way, but the oni child’s horns were still thankfully short enough, for now, that Franklin could still reach the forehead. Not a child, a squire. The boy’s blue hair and green/black mottled skin looked almost yellow in the firelight, but he stood rigidly at attention.
Fayna, by contrast, had so much of her mother’s, Anna’s, gentleness. The stark white hair was all a sign of her blood-father, however. Franklin’s husband. She stood as straight as Baynan, but did not hide her emotions nearly as well. Franklin had always found it adorable… but she worried how it would hurt her daughter when she had to face nobles as a child, even a secondary child, of House Oomori.
“Anna, you have the command. Eighth Spear Modulin, keep things in order. Don’t be afraid to beat anyone, even a knight, who can’t follow orders. I’ll back you, I give you my solemn vow,” she ordered the oldest one present, and the only adult male.
“Yes, My Lord!” he replied with a cheeky grin and a parade perfect salute. He wasn’t Eighth-Spear for nothing.
“You make promises to the squires, yet offer none to your wife?” Anna asked with a wry grin, stepping up and pulling Franklin into a kiss. She saw Agritus roll her eyes as she accepted it, using something besides words to make a promise to her wife. “I will not raise them alone, I would have you know. And there are six more depending on you. You will not die.”
“As my lady commands,” she whispered. Goodbyes completed, she returned the salutes of her family and friend, and turned to stride away.
“Alright, so what kind of fire-breath was it?” Agritus asked the very moment she stepped back over to Franklin, eyes shining brightly, and not merely from reflected firelight. She was now carrying her familiar, a cat with orange striped fur. Agritus stroked the cat’s fur lovingly as she walked beside Franklin, but her gaze was rooted to Franklin.
“Are you truly this besotted with magic, or is it merely carnage which fascinates you?” she lightly inquired as they walked together.
“Knight-Lieutenant, you described it as being stronger than the court magician, her highness Terebit! Do you even comprehend how powerful such magic is? Magic has many practices, thousands of those who profess to wield it, and yet, out of all those thousands, only four others in all our nation can stand on the same level as Royal-Consort Terebit. How could I not be curious, fascinated, even besotted?” the woman’s pale cheeks flushed a brilliant, beautiful scarlet with excitement. “There was also the aura of power emanating from him. It was beautiful, I will have you know. I could feel it even from so brief a contact. The secrets I could learn by studying someone with power so great are countless!”
“Are magical secrets your true reason for tagging along?” Franklin quipped. “But he is a commoner, and a lizard at that. I thought you looked down on commoners,” she added as they walked towards the battlements on the south side of town, where Coal and the maid were waiting.
“How dare you!” Agritus rejoined, then caught herself and pulled in a deep breath. “Ser, I am a wizard first, and a noble second! What is more,” she added, voice as fierce as a growling wolf, “I comprehend the point of nobility.”
Here we go… Franklin sighed internally.
“Nobility are superior, this is true. This very superiority is the root reason they deserve to be nobility.”
“Wait, what?” Franklin couldn’t help but asking. It was not exactly the answer she expected. Wasn’t this going to be the usual “Pride of the nobility” speech?
“The noble houses of both Silvitas and Stalar, of our new combined nation, hold pride of place in the hierarchies of our politics by virtue of ability and expectation. Nobles advance or decline as decided by their abilities, acumen, and accomplishments. Were this not the case, your darling husband would not be the youngest Praetor, and first full commoner, in recorded history to hold his post over a full legion. If the nobility cannot live up to the expectations of their status, it is necessary to cast them down and raise up replacements. Noble superiority to the commoners allowed nobles to rule from the outset. This is the reason why so many nobles marry elves, as your dear House Oomori did two generations back. This is why the King himself marrying both elves and one of our strongest magic wielders is a lauded decision across the land! How do you not know this?”
“Because I hate politics. Most of the nobles I deal with are either arrogant bastards who just see a sex toy or idiots whose pride probably outstrips these accomplishments you've been harping about. Encountering a noble who is both has proven itself a common occurrence,” Franklin rejoined acidly. “I can count on one hand those I consider worth the title.” She was quite used to the stares full of lust she got from her husband’s business associates, and she fully remembered her state of affairs when she was still a squire, before she had earned more from her future husband than lust and education.
“Ah… I… well then I…” Agritus seemed unsure how to answer that. “Those were nobility perhaps unworthy of the title. If you don’t give me names, I can handle say with any certainty! The whole point of our system of titles is that the best will rise to the top, where they can most efficiently rule the system to ensure prosperity for all. The guilds exist to ensure even commoners have a voice and the chance to prove their worth. With these two pillars-”
Franklin used her hand to physically close the mage’s mouth, as they had arrived at their destination. “This part I’ve heard before,” she added. “Save it for later. Master Coal, we are ready to depa…”
She trailed off, eyes focused at last on what was in front of them, rather than her conversational partner. There was something vaguely resembling a carriage before them. It was about the right size, but it was round, had small wings, and no wheels. It was floating a little off the ground, and Coal was busy securing ropes to it and himself. “Good, we’re about ready here,” he called back. His voice sounded almost nervous, but such an idea was ridiculous.
“What is this?” Agritus asked, eyes shining bright as she tottered forward, awe and excitement glowing on her face. “It floats? It floats! What is it?” she repeated in awe. Her cat leapt out of her hands and wandered over to an unturned barrel, upon which it settled down, ignored by its entranced mistress.
“A sky carriage,” Coal replied. “You hook something that can fly to the front, and the carriage follows behind it through the air.”
“Wait, fly?” Franklin asked, feeling sick. In the air? Again? High above, where a fall could- and she’d see everything?
“Yes. I’ll fly ahead and pull it behind me,” Coal explained light heartedly, as he finished tying ropes. Franklin gulped, but in a rush of wind, Agritus ran to the carriage.
“This is incredible! Is it, is this just an enchantment based on low grade levitation magic?” she asked, voice as high as a kite and more excited than a budding socialite at her first ball.
Coal blinked, reptilian eyes widening and then focusing on Agritus as she wiggled and danced excitedly. She froze, clearing her throat as she stood up straight. “That is, um-”
“Yes,” Coal replied, deciding apparently to move on and allow the idiot some dignity. Franklin herself had to focus her gaze elsewhere before Agritus could notice. Doing so drew her attention to the fact she was looking at a small figure she hadn’t expected to see. Two, actually.
The first was a small leafy figure, holding a large pack and chatting with the second surprise. This was a hobgoblin, a female, bound with ropes so she couldn’t really move, but seated upright against a barrel as she spoke with the leshy.
“Why is the hobgoblin here, Master Coal?
The hob in question turned her gaze to Franklin, looking curious. “She might be useful. She’s very cooperative,” he explained breezily.
“Indeed, I am!” the hob replied gleefully, writhing in her restraints.
“Stop that,” Coal ordered, giving her a frightful gaze. The moment her eyes caught his gaze she froze, then shivered, and seemed to relax into her restraints with a most ecstatic face, one Franklin recognized well. The expression, not the person. She felt her own self grow somewhat excited by the spectacle, and had to turn completely away from everyone as she carefully breathed, face flushed red with excitement and embarrassment. It had been incredibly erotic-
“Are you alright, Ser Franklin?” Coal asked, concern filling his voice.
“Just fine!” she called back.
“Don’t mind her,” Agritus cut in, and then whispered, quite loudly, “She’s just a harlot.”
“And proud of it!” Franklin shouted, face redder than ever.
Agritus coughed, and then she could hear the annoying woman change the subject. “Why are there wings on the carriage?” she asked Coal.
There was some kind of thump behind her before Coal answered. “The enchantment keeps the carriage aloft. It doesn’t keep it balanced. The wings provide stability, so it doesn’t randomly flip over and throw the passengers away,” he explained. “I designed some of it myself.”
“Did you make it yourself?” Agritus inquired.
“Not really. I helped, but I didn’t do most of the work," Coal replied casually.
“But you understand the theory of it? How it was crafted? The principles upon which it relies? Where did it come from? You couldn’t possibly have hauled something this large around invisible this whole time!” Agritus suddenly realized, voice growing even more excited.
“I- look, get in, and we can discuss it later. We’ve got people to rescue, don’t we?” he grumbled. Franklin turned around to see Agritus slumped, looking up at Coal with a very pitiable look. At least, it was probably meant to be.
The maid grabbed her and threw her bodily into the carriage before Coal could react to the attempt. “The time for leaving is now. Master Sun Shining on Leaves, if you please,” she added with a curtsy. The little leshy stood up and began walking over. Coal walked over to the bound hobgoblin and picked her up quite gently, then deposited her next to Ssol in the carriage.
Only Franklin and the maid remained. “Ser Franklin, we are ready to depart,” the woman needlessly informed her with another curtsy. “Please get inside now,” she requested with a sweet smile, which Franklin suddenly felt a tinge of danger from.
“Thank you,” she replied, stepping up and getting into the carriage, then immediately shutting her eyes. She was not flying. She was not floating. She was safe and sound.
“Something wrong Ser Starr?” Agritus asked, voice smug.
“Everything is perfectly fine,” she replied stiffly, knowing she wasn’t doing a good job of lying to anyone.
The carriage rocked only slightly as the maid climbed inside. There were now five of them within. It lurched and she knew Coal had taken off, rising into the air. She drew in a breath as her stomach tried to heave… but something else was odd. It didn’t feel like flying. Or a carriage. No lurching, no rattle or shaking. She felt sick, a little, but not as bad as she’d expected. Cautiously she opened her eyes.
“Don’t like to fly, lass?” Ssol asked her, pulling a vial out of a pouch somewhere. “You might try this. A little alchemical remedy for motion sickness. Could help with holding yourself in ‘til we be landed. Always happy to help a noble knight, so there be no charge, of course,” he added as he extended the vial.
“I promised we’d pay for those fire bombs,” she replied. “Thank you.” She drank the concoction, though it had an unpleasant taste. The taste didn’t shock her, for leshy had no taste buds. Knowing this also failed to help with the taste, and it absolutely showed on her face, causing Agritus to grin.
“Is there some issue with the taste, Mistress Knight?” the hobgoblin asked from the corner. She tilted her head to the side slightly as she looked at first Franklin, then Ssol. “Have you tried using pomegranates? Blue berries might also work, though they risk reducing potency,” she chimed in. “I don’t know most alchemy, but I am familiar with certain medicinal remedies,” she explained with a cheerful smile.
“Interesting idea, Ms. Molevetus!” Ssol responded with equal cheer. “A note I should be making, against future uses,” he cackled happily, pulling a bound tome from his satchel. He began scribing into it using a strange pen, made not with a feather, but with a stick.
“Your name is Molevetus, right? I was pondering on it… doesn’t your name translate to ‘One of supreme order?’ in your own tongue? Isn’t your family one of the highest in the republic?” The maid gazed curiously at the bound hobgoblin as she probed her with the questions.
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“Yes, I’ve heard the name Molevetus too. My father had business dealings with someone bearing that name five years ago, before the treaty was thrown out,” Agritus chimed, the curiosity in her voice rising.
“We did not violate the treaty, nor abridge nor abrogate it,” the hobgoblin said calmly. “Such was the doing of the iruxi. They paid stiff fines for it.”
“I’m sure they did, but you never actually answered me,” Franklin responded, taking control of the conversation again.
“I did not, no, I-”
“What was her first name?” Agritus interrupted yet again.
“It was Maladictus,” the maid supplied helpfully.
“Thank you,” Agritus replied. “Maladictus, Maladictus,” she muttered on repeat.
“I think it means graceful, beautiful, surpassing all things. Maladictus Molevetus… One of the Surpassing Supreme Order? That is a name,” Franklin replied, giving a look back at the hobgoblin, who was blushing.
“It is indeed a name, and I would greatly prefer the kindness of bringing it forward no longer, but putting away the topic for never, please,” she requested with the most force Franklin, and apparently the maid or anyone, had yet heard out of her. “I did not ask for it, but it is mine,” she concluded somberly.
“There is something more useful to ask her,” Agritus mused. “She must surely know where we are going, what we face, is such not the purpose for which she has been hauled along?” she asked the maid.
“Indeed,” the maid replied, turning her attention to new matters, gaze still upon the hobgoblin. “Mala, do you intend to cooperate?”
“My new god has commanded me to obey you, lady elf. I shall cooperate with anything I can,” she explained with a smile.
“New god?” Franklin asked, confused. Agritus leaned in closer, curious.
“You call him Master Coal, but to me he is the god of fear, the great Hunt. A dragon of terror so pure and sweet it can stop a heart with only a glance. I have never seen nor heard of another who can do such a deed. Such sweet fear- how can I not worship it? There is no more pure emotion than fear, and no greater calling for me than to submit to it, experience, know it.” She sounded, not well.
Franklin blanched. “You fear flying, Ser knight. You fear for your granddaughter, my lady elf. You, Ssol, fear boredom, endless repetitive emptiness filled with no new things, no new wonders to fill your soul. I know not your fears, lady knight,” she smiled and nodded her head to Agritus, “But they surely exist. All things know fear, and he is fear itself. I desire only to witness the terror he spreads, to follow him and know this fear, etch it into my soul! So I obey. Ask, and I shall answer,” she concluded with a broad smile.
“Where did your maester take my granddaughter,” the maid demanded, voice tinged with annoyance.
“To the Maw.”
It wasn’t just Franklin whose face became white as a sheet. Indeed, she hadn’t realized Agritus could get more pale than she already was. The Maw… a gaping hole almost a day’s travel from the town. Its horrifying reputation existed mostly for what was inside it, not what came out of it. The occasional undead or wyvern had popped out of the Maw to cause trouble in the countryside. Nothing which couldn’t be contained by the local militias and knights. Daffolid was not the only town to survive, even thrive, within reach of the occasional monster it unleashed.
The horror of the Maw was more subtle. A terrible weight of fear emanated from it constantly. Weak, but persistent. Questers, even Jotun and once a Dragon-ranked, had descended into the Maw seeking to find the source, discover its secrets, raid its treasures.
In the almost thousand year history of its known existence, no one had ever returned from it. “HE’S GOING TO THE MAW!” the maid screamed. “I’ll kill him!”
“What the hell’s going on in there?” Coal shouted.
“YOU KEEP FLYING! WE HAVE TO HURRY!!!” She roared at Coal. Miraculously, he actually listened to her. Franklin’s eyes were open wide. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”
“I was not asked!” protested the hobgoblin. “One does not answer questions one has not been asked! Garnak higlin frus ergedab wersakin grunvan livlik grunvans!” she cursed in her own tongue.
The answer brought the maid up short for a single breath. “That’s ridiculous! Insane! Why it is.. Oh hells, it’s completely in keeping with you bloody rules obsessed hobgoblins! Fine! Well I’m asking now! WHY?” she roared the last word.
“It is how we arrived. We tread a path through the Maw which exits near the border in the mountains!”
“WHAT? You went through the Maw? How is this possible?” Franklin demanded.
“How did you survive the fear? No, nevermind, I mean… how could you still walk? You seem the type who wouldn’t have wanted to leave,” Agritus cut in, eager to discuss the idea apparently.
“Ah… ah… I… did not. I had to be dragged out by the greater fear my maester put into me… he was extremely disappointed, and punished my brother severely.”
“Why your brother?” Ssol piped up.
“He believed this would cause me more pain, perhaps? I can offer no certain answer. The Maester is a being of intimidation and mystery, I do not attempt to understand him, only obey him. At least, I did.”
“Your god or your maester, if you must choose?” the maid asked.
“My god, of course!” Maladictus happily replied. “I would forever prefer to serve my god to my maester.”
“The Maw, do you know what’s inside? What foul thing kills all who enter?” Franklin cut in. “Surely you saw something useful.”
“Answer her,” the maid added, before Maladictus could even open her mouth.
“Of course, lady elf!”
“My name is Catherine Merelidia,” she interjected irritably. “It would be… preferable to use my name over calling me ‘Lady Elf.’”
“Yes, Mistress Catherine,” Maladictus answered. “The thing in the cave… it is old. I did not see it. It was in a chamber sealed off from the rest, but the undead within serve it. Perhaps it is a necromancer at odds with death, or even one in accordance with them. I did not think so, however. I did not get the sense its collection of undead servants were drawn solely from willing donors. Its door was not even a quarter of the way from the exit, or in this case, entrance to the caverns. There were also a few monsters within. Creatures which clung to the ceiling. Spiders near the entrance in the mountains, and a strange species of wyvern at the exit, where we are going now. They were a little smaller than those I am familiar with, though still quite large. They made a very high pitched noise, rather like a bat does. It was painful to my ears. I have never heard a wyvern make such a sound before, and bats are not nearly so loud. There is a second colony near the middle.”
“Perhaps they see as bats do then…” Agritus mused. “Of course, I know little of how bats see…”
“Echo-location,” Franklin supplied. “My husband explained it once while we were hunting a ship some… fourteen years ago? Yes, I believe it was fourteen years. We were chasing a ship, and my sponsor hired a specialist who could bond with and speak to whales and dolphins. He used these creatures to track and find things in the water. They bounced sound waves off other objects in the water, and could interpret this information. He mentioned bats could do the same thing.”
All her companions looked at Franklin, baffled. “What?” she asked.
“You know the strangest things,” Agritus mused, a smile on her face. “Fascinating. I would love to examine one of these wyverns then, perhaps find a way to replicate their ability through magic… such work would be of surpassing intricacy… the skills required…”
“Perhaps. Now then, ladies and master Ssol, I think it is past time something was established about our current arrangement. I have the understanding there remain those among you who think me merely a maid, mistake me as a simple assistant to Master Coal.” The maid, Catherine, glanced at each of them, save the hob, then held her gaze longest on Franklin. “This is in error. You are here by the mercy of Master Coal, while also at my sufferance.” Her voice was calm, there was even the hint of a smile on her face as she spoke. A most unpleasant smile.
She dug into her bodice and pulled forth something hanging from her neck. A gleaming silver wyvern. “I’m sure you recognize this, Ser Knights.”
“Wyvern-ranked? Truly?” Agritus asked, looking from the pendant to the woman’s, Ms. Merelidia’s, face.
“Yes. I attained the rank almost forty years ago, but I have kept up with my paperwork. I am still a registered Quester Guild member. I will be taking command of this mission. There will be no objections allowed. Am I clear?”
Wyvern wasn’t an especially high rank, technically speaking. It was the first rank required to be recognized as a “Seasoned” Questor. From pup to wolf, Wolf to Griffon. Wyvern, then Hydra, then Jotun, then Dragon. Franklin herself had beaten Wyvern ranked questors in duels before…
“It would be more accurate to think of me as being Hydra ranked, but I haven’t had the opportunity to take the advancement tests since I moved to Daffolid almost forty years ago. Have I been understood?”
“I understand, Lady Merelidia,” Ssol responded. “As my new friend’s trusted confidant, I am honored to accept your command.”
“Mistress Catherine has my god’s trust, so of course I will continue to obey,” Maladictus replied.
Agritus was silent, merely watching Franklin. Franklin held rank here, so Agritus couldn’t simply obey without Franklin’s consent. Of course… “Yes, Ma’am. I will obey and cooperate. Thank you for clarifying our positions,” she replied, saluting. A Wyvern ranked adventurer was probably reason enough, since this wasn’t an official military mission. However, this was a mission depending exactly as she said, on the mercy of Coal. The only person Coal had really cooperated with or seemed to genuinely care about was Catherine.
“Good. Just call me Catherine. I believe we’ll be there soon. Coal seemed to think it would not take significant time to reach them. Even should they have descended into the Maw, he will catch up quickly. Prepare yourselves.”
Franklin looked, and indeed there was far off and far below, yet coming closer, a great yawning darkness, an empty space amidst the trees, a yawning MAW. She promptly leaned out of the carriage and threw up.
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“Is she going to be alright?” August asked Catherine, watching a retching Franklin slowly gain control of her breathing, and her heaving, her feet once more on blessedly solid ground.
“Yes. She just can’t handle flying, apparently. However, she’ll be alright now,” she declared firmly.
August nodded. He’d heard almost everything that happened in the carriage, which he was now in the process of putting away. Agritus stood nearby, enraptured at the process as it shrank down to the size of a keychain ornament, which he promptly put in his bag of holding.
“It shrank! You shrunk the carriage! How?” Agritus could only stare in awe, eyes wide as she muttered questions and words of awe.
“Is that unusual?” he asked, feeling his spines stiffen the way his hair used to stand on end sometimes. “Ah?”
“It’s INCREDIBLE! I’ve never seen anyone do such a deed before. I cannot recall even hearing of a massive carriage shrunken down so small before! This was eye opening! Please, do it again!” Agritus pleaded.
“No,” Catherine replied, grabbing Agritus by the ear. “Master Coal, we should proceed at once,” she insisted.
“You’re right,” he said, his spines standing straight at her fearsome gaze. “All of you, we’re moving!” he declared, turning his gaze to the massive gaping hole in the ground. It truly was a cavern. It actually looked like a toothy maw, though he wasn’t sure how that was possible. It wasn’t a straight drop down, but rather a steep descent as the cavern angled back and away. There was, apparently, a bottom going by Mala’s description. “Mala, walk with me. You’ve been in the cave before, so you will offer advice based on your recollections,” he commanded her.
The hob, whose legs had been freed, gleefully ran up and stood next to him. She smiled up at him, but that only made him squirm. The woman’s gaze was definitely not something he’d dealt with much. Open lust and adoration. Why the hell was she so happy about being afraid of him? Why the hell did she call him a god earlier?
The six of them began the slow climb down the Maw. It was actually very quick and easy for Coal’s body. The claws on his feet gripped stone well, and his body’s ability to climb in general was phenomenal. It was almost… frustrating, he thought, as he descended down the cavern mouth.
It was dark, yet without prompting light flared. He himself held a wayfinder, while Agritus also had an object shedding radiant light. It made their immediate surroundings visible, but the light couldn’t penetrate the true darkness of the cavern’s depths. Catherine retrieved her own wayfinder from somewhere on her person, shedding a third source of magical light as they descended. A fourth light flared. He glanced over and his eyes widened as a literal halo of light hung shining above Sir Franklin’s head. He almost asked about it, but considered otherwise. They couldn't be sure what dangers lay ahead, atop a difficult climb. For now he should let them all focus on the descent.
It felt like forever to reach the bottom, yet it couldn’t have been more than a ten minute climb down. He was thankful for that, because Agritus and Mala looked exhausted by the effort. Ssol now rode upon his shoulders, and both Franklin and Catherine looked a little winded by the exertion.
He looked around the area they were in, not that there was much to see. The stalactites hung down from the cavern’s high roof like teeth, just as the stalagmites rose up to meet them. Most of the largest sets had become genuine pillars, and through these a path had been… he couldn’t think of any way to describe it except carved. The pillars were so old and massive in this cavern in many places they had entirely blocked off the cavern. Yet a path existed, where the obstructions had long ago been broken out and the worn trail of footprints could be seen leading inward. His target was now almost directly ahead of them.
“To the Ends of the Earth,” he muttered. It was frightening how he could still tell the grandmaester’s exact distance and direction, and basically see exactly where the hob had walked across the floor of the cavern. He could also pick out subtle indications of where the other fleeing kidnappers had trod, though not as distinctly. It really was a frightening ability.
“Alright, let’s move,” he ordered, setting off while trying to remember not to exceed the pace of his companions. The problem of the slowest of them had been solved by having Ssol ride his shoulders, but the rest were too large to all fit, and the cavern had no room to fly with the carriage. They’d have to walk.
“My friend,” Ssol whispered after a time, “How can you know where to go? I can see no signs of passage, and there seem to be many side caverns even this far into the Maw…”
“I am tracking that Grand Maester. I can tell exactly where he is right now, down to foot,” August chuckled. Of course the well worn pathway was an obvious clue followed exactly, but he supposed it wasn't unthinkable for it to be a trap. It wasn't, but it could have been.
“A frightening ability, my friend. Never have I heard the like of it,” Ssol admitted.
“It wasn’t exactly easy to get, and I honestly haven’t known how to do it very long. Still, it’s proving invaluable so far,” he chuckled as he explained. Ssol fell quiet for a moment.
“You are a strange being, to my eyes. Though many things about the animal races are strange to me, you stand out among them,” Ssol admitted after a few moments pondering. “However, I find that I like your honesty and sincerity, my friend. It is why I volunteered to join this rescue. I wished to see a little more of what and who you were, and you have not disappointed. Flying carriages, sprouting wings, tracking someone so well you know where they were without being able to see them- these are not the kinds of skills I normally see. You use them merely to help others, instead of yourself. You never did get your map, did you?”
August walked for a moment in his own contemplative silence. “Not yet.”
“I hope you are able to,” Ssol offered his sympathy. “I have had few friends, and no children, but I too have some attachments I would hate to lose, so perhaps I can begin to imagine the pain and fear you feel for your daughter.”
“Pain yes, and fear, but perhaps not so much as you expect,” August admitted. “She is strong, perhaps stronger than me. I fear because she lacks experience, wisdom, grounding. Because this is an unknown world and we do not know what manner of traps and pitfalls the world can threaten us with. Yet I trust her too. She will survive until I reach her. Indeed, in some ways, what I fear most is that she will grow without my presence, that I will miss something extraordinary.”
“Ah. Now that is a fear I comprehend in full. To watch something beautiful grow, or to miss an opportunity, and be stuck looking only at the difference. A weighty loss indeed," Ssol agreed.
August was silent for a bit, as they strode through the cavern. None of the others were talking now, and even Mala seemed unsure how she could actually be useful walking next to him. It surprised him to realize he genuinely believed she wanted to aid him, but perhaps it shouldn't have. With Coal’s skills and abilities, deceiving him was a feat reserved for those of comparable levels and concerted focus in lying. As best he could tell, the only creature he'd yet met who came close was the grandmaester.
His perception was simply that- Coal froze, the faux-wyrmblood’s instincts and perceptions picking up on an impossibly subtle noise and vibration in the air. There was something ahead. Perhaps more than one something.
It took his companions a moment to catch on to his unnatural stillness, starting with Maladictus and Catherine, then the pair of knights. Ssol cheated, feeling the stillness beneath him as he sat Coal’s broad shoulders. “Stay here,” he ordered everyone, though he did not bother removing Ssol from his shoulders.
As quietly as possible, he moved forward. Whatever was creating that sound wasn’t visible. He extinguished his lightsource as he crept forward, staying behind cover as much as possible as he progressed into the cavern. Random broken pillars lay scattered about, while new ones formed all over the place. It turned the cavern into a maze which most would have quickly become confused by.
Coal however, could pierce the maze and follow the path of his prey with perfect precision, so he did not have to be concerned. He had, however, been wondering why they’d yet to encounter any of the creatures said to live in the cavern, and now he’d found some. The corpse was massive. It had to be larger than an elephant, a dinosaur in real life, yet probably worse. The long tail was spiked, and massive wings spread out from the large muscular body. Or rather, they should have, yet one wing lay far off from the body, hacked or sliced off by force.
He couldn’t see the head of the corpse, indeed, he could barely make out the corpse itself in the darkness. Enough ambient light filtered over from the light still held by Agritus that the cavern was not wholly dark, but the simple fact was without a light source, he couldn’t make out what else was there. He had no choice but to don his blindfold once more. “Don’t look, it’s dangerous,” he whispered to Ssol.
It was a mistake. As soon as the words left his mouth, before he could even begin to don the Dread Blindfold, something howled and screeched and charged, knocking out a pillar as it dashed towards his position intent on killing the source of the sound. It came closer, and at last Coal could see it.
A wyvern, Coal’s mind provided the information, came charging out of the darkness enraged. It smashed aside a pillar blocking its path and tried to bite his head off with its toothy maw. Coal ducked under it and sucker punched the creature, which reeled back in surprise. He then released a roar of challenge and willed his own lightsource back to life, illuminating their surroundings and revealing his foe.
The wyvern screeched and backed away in surprise at Coal’s response, fear shining in its gaze as it beheld the intimidating glare of the wyrmblood. Thankfully, neither August nor the part of him that was Coal had any intention of killing the beast, and so it did not die of his gaze. Yet even so it backed away, scared. With light illuming the situation, he could now perceive its wounds. Though both wings and tail remained intact, they were covered in slashes and gashes. The creature seemed barely alive, and had likely attacked as much out of fear as anger.
“How awful,” he could not help but say, observing the poor thing as it huddled near the corpse, afraid to approach him again. He looked upon the scene, and then spoke in the language of dragons, playing a hunch of his memories and recollections. Though most often called mere beasts, supposedly wyverns were intelligent beings.
“” he said in draconic, taking no forward movements but shuffling to the side instead, while he dug in his pack for yet another of his precious potions. “
The Wyvern gazed intently at him with bright wide eyes, then its head shook. It nudged the body with its snout, and then warbled out a reply in broken draconic. “
August nodded. “” he explained. “
The wyvern grew still, eyes shining with some mixture of apprehension and mistrust, yet it obeyed as Coal approached. He wasn’t certain whether it obeyed out of hope, fear, or despair, but it obeyed. He poured the potion into its mouth, and stepped back to watch as many of its wounds began to close, wings no longer full of holes. The wyvern seemed surprised he had done precisely as he promised.
“” he offered the wyvern. Its eyes widened, and then it shook its head.
“
“
It shook its head. “
“
“
He considered the scene, the movements of his prey… “” Not strictly true, but a cleaner and simpler explanation for a wyvern he could not think of. It would suffice. “
The wyvern’s large eyes blinked. “
Coal glanced back. The four women had moved into position to assist if necessary, and were watching the scene with a mixture of emotions from shock to worry. “
“” it replied, bowing its head to him. On impulse, he reached out and rubbed its nose. This was the second time someone had called him fearsome so reverently.
“It’s a wyvern… you tamed a bloody wyvern? By Saint Frashta’s left hook, my life gets more ridiculous by the minute!” Franklin could be heard bemoaning. “Hah.”
“We’re continuing,” Coal cut her off. “We regained a good bit of time by flying here, but we must increase our pace if we want to catch up while they’re still in the caverns. They aren’t rushing yet, but they might change their pace.”
“Right then. Mala, Agritus, Ssol, you should ride the wyvern. Doing so will free up Coal and the rest of us to move faster. Speed is our goal here,” Catherine dictated.
Coal nodded. “
He found he couldn’t help but chuckle a little. He’d somehow tamed a wyvern, at least for now. He certainly hadn’t expected that on top of everything else…
----------------------------------------
A sense of dread flooded out from the sealed door. Corvik stood tall before it, in his full imposing dress, sword sheathed at his side as he played with a knife instead. His subordinates stood, heads bowed, at his back to show his lack of fear. Before the door two massive skeletons, former ogres perhaps, stood guard armed with massive spears and bearing shields almost as tall as they were. A pale skinned creature stood before the door as well, green light emanating from its empty eyes as its gaze focused on Corvik.
“I return with gifts and greetings for your master, Wight. Inform him that The Grandmaester of Lust is here, for his convenience.” He stood at rest, relaxed, confident… because he had to be.
The wight’s green lighted eyes bored into him for almost a minute of silence. Then it turned away and pulled the door open. Corvik would almost have been willing to swear he heard it sigh aloud as it turned away from him. It entered through the massive doors, which creaked audibly both opening and closing. It was an irritating creak, a ringing sound as could easily drive someone mad, even him.
After almost five minutes more of waiting, with nervous coughs and shuffling of feet and the moans and groans and whimpers of fearful prisoners breaking the otherwise oppressive silence, those frightfully creaky doors opened wide at last. When they did, all thought of complaint vanished from Corvik’s mind, replaced with intense and tightly collared terror.
The mere presence of what he saw made his knees feel weakened, his bowels clench, his teeth desire to chatter. He had to stop himself from reflexively going for his sword, even just to reassure himself. Such an act might have seemed an insult or a threat.
The two massive door wardens beat the hafts of their spears upon the ground as their dread master at last made his appearance. “I present The Dread Necromancer, MAWeater! Lord of the Maw, Keeper of the Dread Tomes of Yore!” The wight’s voice was high pitched and shrill as it proclaimed this.
At last, the… thing, appeared. Long, dark blue robes, partly tattered, trailed the ground as it strode out the door. A disc appeared, floating in the air, and onto this the figure stepped, raising its head high. Upon the head was a wide brimmed hat. No, to call it wide brimmed was to call an orc tall while a giant stood nearby. It was massive of brim, almost half the height of a hob, surely. It was a purple color, a dull, old, weary purple that had been popular with elderly women attending temple worship when Corvik was a child, faded and weathered. Feathers upon feathers, black and as faded as the purple of the hat, stood out upon it. Atop it, crowning it, was a vulture’s skeleton. All flesh had long since fallen from the bird, leaving only a withered skeleton of empty visage to stare at anyone who stood before it.
Beneath the hat were empty sockets on a skinless skull, the withered skeleton of this undead necromancer still moving long after all function should have ceased. Nothing burned in those eyes, nothing shined in those eyes. They were empty voids that instead seemed to dim the room simply by looking at it, as though the torches grew weak in their presence and the braziers ran low on fuel. Those empty eyes locked at once upon Corvik, as they had once before. The lower jaw seemed to raise slightly, and then opened without care for the impossibility of having no tendons. “CORVIK! Good to see you made it back!” the creature exclaimed, voice carrying honest delight.
Corvik swallowed unconsciously as he controlled his fear. “Indeed, and I bring many spoils! New workers, gold, weapons, and other trinkets as well. I also must report that we brought back none of the skeletons you lent us. They obeyed just as you promised, but-”
“Oh don’t worry about that!” the creature, MAWeater, interrupted him. “Just a little test. I knew when they were destroyed, don’t worry about it, really. The important thing is you made it back in one piece!” it expressed, arms thrown wide in excitement.
“Most of one piece,” Corvik gently corrected.
“Most of? You mean something actually hurt you?” it exclaimed in surprise. “But you’re a grandmaester! Hinge, you told me Grandmaesters were practically untouchable to most mortals!” it complained to the wight who had taken up a position off to the side, watching everyone with emotionless eyes.
“They are, Ma- MAWeater, sir,” it replied, for some reason stumbling on the name. “Which means whatever he was looking for was probably more than he bargained for,” it added, the ghostly glimmer of a smirk showing on its face as it looked at him. Corvik felt rage suddenly boil ahead of the fear. Oh how he wanted to stab that wight.
“Oh. So did you find it then? The thing? Where is it, show me! I wish to see!” MAWeater demanded.
“Ah, no, we did not,” Corvik replied after a moment. He’d almost lied, in fact, originally he’d intended to pass the girl off as his prize. Somehow, at the moment of truth, he’d instead told, well, the truth. “I have laid bait for it instead. It may come after us,” he explained. “I hope it does. I shall lure it in and capture it on my terms instead of its own ground. A hunter must employ many measures to take dangerous prey alive. This is no different.”
The necromancer stared at him for a moment. “Ah,well then. Good luck, I suppose,” MAWeater said, sounding genuinely disappointed. “Did you bring my payment?” it asked next.
“Of course. You may select any four from among our prizes, except for my bait. It would be bad to let that out of my sight,” he explained.
“Oh, well then, let’s do this then!” he exclaimed, and turned towards the assembled captives. Had they not been gagged, they would have screamed. Many still tried. The cat’s eyes were wide with utter terror, right in the center. “Hinge, there’s a cat! A cat girl! I haven’t seen one in forever!” the creature exclaimed. “I want her. Oh, let’s see… those two strong guys and… the older woman too. Those should do. So the cat and those three, Corvik,” it declared, turning to face him once more.
“It is decided. Hand those over to our host,” he commanded his subordinates. “Now then, is there anything else, Lord MAWeater?”
MAWeater gazed at him with his empty eyes. “Leaving so quickly? I suppose you do have things to do besides talk with me… oh! The thing you were hunting, you said it might come down here tracking you, right? I’ll try not to kill it, so if I send one of my undead with a message, be sure to return them intact when you come to pick it up from me, and bring me more subjects when you do! If it gets past me, then good luck!” Maweater’s lower jaw seemed to raise slightly. It extended a skeletal hand to him. Corvik marshalled his emotions and grasped the proffered hand, shaking it. He had no idea why MAWeater wanted to do this, but he’d survived doing so last time.
That done, he turned around to begin making his es-, his exit. He had almost offered the necromancer the corpse of the wyvern they’d slain, but he did not see the use in doing so. It would be too strong of a pawn to hand to the creature. If he was too stupid to realize he could use the wyverns, Corvik had no-
“She cut me! Hinge, you let her cut me! Ah! Bad kitty! Bad!” the excitable, and infinitely irritating, monster exclaimed loudly. Corvik turned around to see one of the undead servitors on the ground, and the catfolk had apparently slashed at the necromancer with her claws. It reached out and swatted her, causing her to fall in an odd position, as if frozen. Corvik’s eyes widened at the new piece of information. However, it was nothing to do with him. The creature had the situation in control, it was past time to leave.
“I am sure you will enjoy your research, MAWeater,” he called, waving politely to avoid irking the creature as his subordinates corralled the remaining captives and moved. He heard weeping, crying, but no screams. The ones who screamed had quickly learned not to after the incident with the wyvern.
The hidey hole of that horrific thing was in a very inconvenient spot. Corvik would have called it a night hours ago, but he wanted to be well past this point before he established camp to allow himself, and his subordinates, to rest.